


Reckless Abandon: Balance

by Teal_Rainbeau



Series: Reckless Abandon: A three-part Klance AU Drama series [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Activist Matt Holt (Voltron), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Drama, Artist Keith (Voltron), Autumn, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Deputy Shiro (Voltron), Doctor Allura (Voltron), Drama & Romance, Established Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Everyone is rich for the most part, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Graduate School, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), POV Third Person Limited, Police Chief Krolia (Voltron), Professor Adam (Voltron), Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Soap Opera, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Some Humor, Supportive Coran (Voltron), Surfer Lance (Voltron), Surprise Ending, Teacher Lance (Voltron), True Love, Unplanned Pregnancy, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teal_Rainbeau/pseuds/Teal_Rainbeau
Summary: It has been a month since Lance's confession to Keith, and neither have spoken to each other since. While Keith has been busy working as millionaire Ren Komatsu's right hand man, Lance and his fiancee have been working overtime with graduate studies and their fast-approaching Fall wedding. As large scale tragedies cause indefinite unrest for the island community of Olkari Beach, can Keith and Lance come together again, or will they forever remain estranged?Update 12/20Happily updated Chapter 3_____________♪Spotify Playlist♪





	1. Previously, in Reckless Abandon...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick-as-I-could summary explaining what happened in "Happiness". Feel free to skip or read on as necessary :)

Previously, in Happiness:

Keith Kogane takes a twelve-hour rideshare from Balmera Valley to the resort-like city of Olkari Beach. He’s staying with mother and police chief Krolia in her beach house until he gets back on his feet. The next morning, Shiro calls him to the police station where they both review the reason for him arriving: to provide protection from death threats after blowing the whistle on illegal practices from his old workplace Galra Fulfillment.

Meanwhile, Lance McClain has been living a happy engagement with his fiancée/girlfriend of two years, Anna Komatsu, spending their last summer together before the demands of graduate school take up their time and energy. Anna is the only child and heir to Komatsu Whole Foods, owned by father and multi-millionaire Ren Komatsu.

After Krolia and Shiro get promoted to Chief of Police and Deputy, there is a party for their celebration at the home that Shiro happily shares with husband of five years, Adam. Hunk and Pidge are there with their own food truck to provide gourmet catering. Lance thinks that Krolia is bringing a date to her party but is shocked to find Keith there after three years of silence. 

The next morning, Keith goes to the beach to clear his mind and sketch. Lance also happens to be there taking an early morning surf. After having a small get-together with the engaged couple, Keith goes with Lance to an old movie theater where he meet Coran, a free-spirit. Despite getting back to their old dynamic of being very good friends. Keith struggles with romantic feelings for his old friend that have been suppressed until late.

Lance invites Keith to come with his friends to visit Allura, a young doctor who serves those in the main beach community, as well as downtown. Her family legacy includes being a safe house for those Olkarions who experience social and emotional turmoil and upheaval. Keith has friends with his friends until Krolia summons him back to the police station for something urgent.

Keith discovers that his ex Rolo DeMartin and former roommate Acxa Williams have been murdered.

Elsewhere, Lance is spending a Sunday afternoon with Anna and his friends. Anna gets drunk after a private conversation with her father and Lance takes her home early, discovering a bruise on her cheek while hungover. She refuses to take action. Lance receives a call from Keith swearing him to secrecy on his whereabouts, but Krolia calls next demanding to know where her son is. Lance has no choice but to squeal with the threat of an obstruction of justice charge hanging over him.

Keith makes it halfway to Balmera only to get detained in a holding cell overnight.

Shiro comes the next morning to retrieve a disgruntled Keith and takes him to his old apartment, where not a trace of his old life with Acxa remains. After an emotional nervous breakdown he goes to pay his final rent, surprised that someone already paid for the both of them and moved her belongings out as well. He and Shiro take a flight home.

Lance comes over to Krolia’s later that afternoon with a kitchen full of groceries as a gesture of forgiveness towards Keith. A rainstorm erupts shortly, and the men are forced to remain inside. Keith tells Anna that Lance is safe and that everything is okay. Lance wakes up at midnight and begins to drink away his complex feelings until Keith intervenes and invites him out for a motorcycle ride.

Rain has passed and the two men hang out at the city limits where Keith reveals what has happened the past two years, and Lance confesses his lingering romantic feelings. Keith shuts him down, assuming his friend is suffering from cold feet, but allows him to spend the night in the guest room after the storm continues.

Lance goes out surfing despite the overcast the next morning and gets a concussion, so Coran takes him to Allura. Anna has no idea, and Lance wants to keep it that way until he recovers completely. Keith reveals his conversation with Lance during a gym workout with Shiro. They encounter Mr. Komatsu, where he offers Keith an opportunity of a lifetime, yet Keith needs a day to give his final answer.

The next day, Lance and Keith meet at the beach and get into a heated argument over the status of their friendship. Keith give’s Lance a clear demand: Marry Anna if he cannot love _him_ freely.

* * *


	2. Temperance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keith?”
> 
> Allura emerged from her office and looked at the man with concern simmering in her eyes. “I got your message, you’re not leaving so soon, are you?”
> 
> The room stopped spinning and the sterile scent dissipated the moment he saw her. He never liked hospitals much, especially since most of his visits have been anything but festive. Yet there was always something that was comforting about Allura’s presence, as if she were a healer from another dimension.
> 
> “Um, no. We can talk. Are you free right now?” The urge to ask her who the hell that man was fizzled on his tongue the moment he returned to business mode.
> 
> “Do come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This begins the Balance Arc.  
> For part 2, I'm going to keep each Chapter 5,000 words or less as some sort of a challenge to myself. Now that everything is up to speed, you can expect more frequent updates.
> 
> A big thank you to those who have stuck with this story so far, I appreciate you!

“Galra seems to be gaining steam. We have to remain vigilant…” Keith said to Mr. Komatsu while in his brightness-vacant office late Friday afternoon.

Keith expected grunt work and mental drudgery when he showed up in a black suit with red tie and white button shirt tucked in. His usual neck-length strands were brushed back into a knot that laid at the nape of his neck, hair revealing a slicked-back widows peak. He was simply a “protégé”, no one with a particular title. He refrained from labeling his position “assistant”, since the man had consistently shown him the kind of respect and trust that one would a well-loved son. Knowing that made it easier for Keith to speak freely, yet respectfully.

“Fear not. I’ve been monitoring their timetable, and it appears that they have run into some issues as of late.” Because of internal changes, Galra Fulfillment’s construction ceased indefinitely, which meant their original projected opening was no longer the November 15th start date. For now, Olkari Brands would be able to polish their own business projections.

Komatsu glanced at him with a final scratch of his fountain pen across a form and set it down gently. “That's enough for today, come back here at 6:30 Monday.”

“Yes, Mr. Komatsu.” Keith turned and walked away.

“And Kogane-kun?” His pronunciation was always _Ko-Gah-ney_ rather than _Ko-gain_.

“Sir?”

The man bent his lips with a warm, yet subtle grin, “Thank you for your work ethic today, and every day prior.”

Keith returned the man’s smile with creased eyes, coasting in the comfort of a chill that steamed his spine.

====

“What the hell just happened?” Shiro opened his mouth in shock.

Members of the Beat; the precinct in general, were moaning and bitching (rightfully so) about former Chief Sanda’s cushy new job at the mayor’s office. A fresh-faced anchor on TV reported as she recalled Sanda’s extortion scandal in a cynical tone silently condemning bad deeds unpunished.

“ _Meanwhile, morale for the Olkari Police department has increased since the torch has been passed to Krolia Kogane. Many residents are twenty five percent more likely to prefer her over former Chief Sanda since the scandal._

_Reporting locally from Olkari Beach I’m Davina Henley, Channel Seven News.”_

Keith caught a glimpse of a self-satisfied smirk that he had not seen in so long. The department’s applause was a resounding song to Krolia’s ears, though she was a woman who took great care not to rest on her laurels. 

“ _Get it, boss lady!”_

_“We said you and Shiro could turn this place around!”_

But still: those loyal to _that woman_ , meaning politicians and others with a heavy pocketbook were rejoicing at her being at Mayor Lubo’s side. Most everyone in the department feared that the wealthy one percent would further encourage corruption.

“Should we toast, Chief?” Shiro had a coffee mug in his hand and Krolia smiled the moment Keith passed through the maze of desks to properly congratulate her.

“Come on, you two.”

In the quiet away from the corridors, Shiro pulled the cork out of a tall, green bottle laced with a gold foil label and ducked as the cork launched to a random corner of paperwork where Krolia’s things were. After a hearty laugh, the family toasted over flutes of the most expensive almond champagne, because a small pack of beer just wouldn’t cut it. According to Keith’s fancy brother, “beer was for sad saps who wanted a cheap numb.”

“Things are looking up. So, to Olkari PD and Keith’s brand-new endeavor with Komatsu-san.”

“And to hell with Sanda.” Krolia bit with a cocky grin.

Krolia and Keith met Shiro’s glass with a toast. With one sip Keith immediately took another because _damn_ , it _might have been_ better than the bitterness of a beer this time around.

“I still think a corporate cut would look great on you, Keith.” Shiro drawled with brotherly love and stroked the slick of the gel in his hair. “Maybe shave a little off the nape and edge it a little at the temples…”

“I like the length of my hair just fine.” He shirked lightly as he shielded his head with his hand.

“What are you going to do the minute it passes your shoulders?” Shiro shot back with a pouty sip.

Keith simply shrugged, “Braid it.” 

====

Streams of fall foliage glory tumbled to the wayside for Keith as he continued on his motorbike, and a childlike abandon melted to a joyous smirk. He could start showing off and doing wheelies, if he were still the delinquent rider he was back when it was fun to test limits regardless of consequences.

Fresh, yet sleek. That’s what ran through Keith’s mind last month while stepping into the green-hued Coriander Suites on Tamarisk Road for the first time. It was situated a twenty-minute distance from the beach community. It lacked the flashiness of uptown, yet it also lacked the weightiness of downtown. It was for those who were more upper middle class, something that Keith most definitely was not by default. He liked being a few doors down from Hunk and Pidge, who he allowed to come over weekly for some quality time.

The once-empty floor plan and the familiar odor of fresh paint and patted carpet triggered previous desert sadness the first day, but he reprogrammed his brain with the fragrance of gentle beach humidity flowing from his bedroom balcony. While the condo was contemporary, his articles of stacked artist magazines, tossed pillows, and neatly stowed dishes were minimalist.

He went straight to his room and began loosening his tie and putting his suit jacket back on a wooden hanger. He was back in joggers and a tight red hoodie with his hair loosened to his usual fall with fringes covering his forehead. He emerged with a classic playlist seeping from his phone, singing along under his breath as he began setting the oven temperature. 

Time tumbled on while he gathered and mixed ingredients. He soon fell into a comfortable lull of a song that started off with a soft triangle rift and bouncy guitar strum.

Thirteen more minutes he inspected the baking tray and retrieved it. 

In his oblivious stupor, Hunk and Pidge welcomed themselves inside.

“Keith?!” Pidge waved casually while removing her green beanie and shaking her light brown hair.

The man jerked his neck and hissed, nearly dropping the cookie sheet straight out of the oven. “How the hell did you guys get in here?!” he strained.

Pidge pointed to the cracked door, mentioning nonchalantly that anyone could have just came in and robbed him. Keith sighed as a mix of hyper-vigilance and shame stirred quite heavily in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? Back at Krolias, he would activate all five locks on her door; was it really _that_ easy to let down his guard now?!

“Keith?! Got the stuff!” Hunk waved a paper bag from Olkari Whole Foods market. “Um…Whatcha got there?”

“Thought I’d do a practice session to warm up…”

It was supposed to be a nice, plump batch of plain sugar cookies, but instead Keith was pitifully working his brain overtime to figure out how twelve cookies came out to be one molded mass.

“You added too much oil.” Hunk spotted off the bat.

“But the recipe said _right here_ to add half a cup of butter! ” Keith stared his phone down as if ready to make an arrest.

“Did you soften it or melt it?”

“It was already soft. I didn’t even refrigerate it yet!” he huffed with heated frustration spreading to his neck.

His mistake, according to Hunk: missing the difference between a half of cup of _softened butter_ and the same amount of _melted butter_. In this case, _melted_ was the worst thing that the recipe asked for, and the larger guy never minced his opinions on shitty recipes online. The former would have technically been a quarter of a serving more. And that was one of the reasons that Keith could count on him: to learn something without extra-added bullshit.

“You gonna throw those away?” Pidge asked anxiously as Keith started scooping them over his trash can.

“I was…”

“Well let me recycle a few…”

“Be my guest.” He relinquished the tray and frowned with skepticism wondering what was edible about that crap. With a happy raise of her eyebrows she took another bite. Maybe he did something right…

Hunk revealed the ingredients needed for the next recipe. Every bit was either organic or really fancy: African vanilla extract, salt that was a shade of _pink_ , chocolate liqueur chips, and pumpkin pulp.

“These are gonna be fancy, aren’t they?”

“Fancy, but so worth it. You’ll see,” Hunk leaned over the counter as if getting ready to tell Keith about the facts of life, “I put a lot of love into what I do. I make sure the food is satisfied and _satiated_.”

“Um…”

“You have to make love to your recipes. Give them the right attention with the proper amount of care.”

Keith smiled squarely.

“You’re listening to the master himself.” Pidge crunched through another piece of the failed cookie batch.

Keith scribbled notes of Hunk’s ingredient measurements on a blank page while watching him mix dry ingredients and wet ingredients in separate bowls.That's what he did wrong: mixing _everything_ into one bowl, of course they looked like deflated orbs. 

After leaving the cookies to chill in the freezer for 30 minutes, Hunk brought out a mini ice cream scoop and began setting each ball of dough into rows of five. Twelve minutes baking on 375 degrees and they were finished. Keith thought they looked like something from a commercial shoot.

Once they cooled, they each toasted with one and munched. Maybe Keith had a sweet tooth, but what floated through his brain was a wave of ecstasy.

“Better than sex?” Pidge threw out.

“Open a café!” Keith blurted out in rare childlike glee.

Pidge melted to the counter in a pile of laughter and Hunk eventually joined her.

“As much as we enjoy serving on wheels, our ultimate plan is just that: to have a home together we can call our own. Nestled somewhere that anyone can find.”

“You definitely have my vote.”

====

Whenever he could, he offered to help Matthew with the Green Initiative, knowing that Komatsu was always a champion for the rights of downtown Olkarions everywhere, and for maintaining the islands natural horticulture. It was a passion project that he collaborated on with a well-respected Mrs. Ryner, on hiatus after her retirement last year: Transportation would be provided for those who worked in the factories and for others who had careers in hospitality, tourism, etc. Pure clean gas fueled vehicles and those who chose to go green could receive stipends and other benefits. 

Matthew dedicated time each day after his Graduate classes to the non-profit, moving tirelessly to maintain working and civil relationships between those who were members of the middle class and below. Some attended K-12 uptown, were involved in academics at the Ivy League, and were rather faceless compared to “trust-fund babies” who made impacts anywhere they went. 

The goal was to gather as many signatures as possible and to show Mayor Lubos what voices needed to be heard. Hopefully, they would gain his support.

Keith squinted while reading the measures thoroughly. One was for all Olkari University students to provide ten percent of their tuition towards improving transportation between downtown and uptown, thus the Green Initiative. A second was for the top five percent of wealthy residents to donate an additional fifteen percent of their taxes towards residential and business infrastructure for hurricane reinforcement. Mr. Komatsu and the late Mr. Altea already contributed last decade, but funds were drying like ink.

“As long as their happy to sign. Matt smiled. “But what about Sanda?”

“What about her?”

Keith understood Matt’s concern: that woman would probably whisper in the mayor’s ear to keep things at the status quo. Getting their measure on the ballot would be like pulling teeth without those who supported Ryner at their full power. For better or worse, wealth and influence spoke louder than any of the staunchest activism ever could…

“Why can’t we ever have a get-together without the political Pow Wow?” Pidge complained through a mouth of chocolate chips.

Hunk returned with the assertion that Pidge could stand to make time for all this. Pidge enjoyed being a part of grassroots movements, but tonight she was just done. She argued that there should have been a less jovial time and place for such things; they were supposed to be discussing a house warming. Matt, being the one afraid of interpersonal conflict between friends, simply validated the other man’s words.

“I might have to pass the torch someday, and you’re on the list, Katie.”

“Give me a break! That won’t happen long until you’re found dead in your rocking chair!”

“I don't doubt that…mostly.”

To dissipate the growing tension in his living room, Keith enthusiastically introduced Coran as a potential ally. He seemed to be more immersed in the community than most as a philanthropist, a wanderer, and Allura’s guardian.

“Talked to him the other day, and he told me he was going to start his new venture as a tour guide.” Matt just shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll talk to him next time I see him at the beach tomorrow morning. Let’s hope he has the hands and the time for some more good will.”

The man smiled at Keith, then back at his sister. “One step at a time, right?”

====

It had been over a month since Keith revisited this spot on the beach where his mother’s house was ten minutes north. Where the only space free from the punishment of sun rays resided on that shaded bench. The area now belonged to a couple who nuzzled and embraced like pigeons or doves, whispering secrets that only the wind could discern. 

The gentleman’s gaze singed him with offense, and he mouthed an apology.

“Long time no see, my boy!” Coran gauged Keith for a warm embrace with arms open, which Keith met in kind. “I was beginning to think you might have returned to that desert smog down south.”

“Just busy.” Keith said. He offered to buy the cheerful man a drink. Non-alcoholic, of course.

There was an exceptional café called the _Windy Cave_ nestled in the college district. One of Coran’s favorites. To Keith it appeared as ordinary as any coffee shop with the flooding of students and conversation bouncing from wall to wall. Yet the walls told a story of a vintage innocence and of golden age celebrity status. Several autographed pictures of actors and actresses streamlined the walls in collages all around. There was an ice cream soda station with a machine left unused since the 1950s. He pondered briefly if Lance would have known the exact history of when, what, how...

They took a seat in one of the lounge areas where the vacuum of voices ceased somehow.

“Matt had classes, otherwise he would be here too.”

Keith filled him in on their petition, and Coran was all too healthy-minded in agreement. Though there was a link on the Internet to fill out the form there, he figured that every signature would count, including paper and pen.

“And I’ll be sure to pass the word along. Where will Matthew be mostly?”

“Olkari University, in the center square. Between ten and twelve.”

“I’ve earned two PHD’s from that campus. One in Philosophy, and the other in Marine Biology. I could give Aqua Man a splash for his crown and his jewels!”

Keith deadpanned, not quite getting it. It was a while since he’s seen a good _contemporary_ movie.

“Sounds like someone needs to catch up on their cinematography, eh? What did you last watch?”

“Uh…something about a girl getting knocked up by a college professor…” With the sweep of his words, his throat swelled, eyes saturated with nostalgia’s pain. He took a concealing sip from his mug.

It had been at least a month since he and Lance spoke. After that late afternoon at the beach when the man confessed to being in love with him, Keith could only assume he was getting along for better or worse. They both changed so much as far as their livelihoods were concerned…maybe it would have been too much to ask for friendship again…

Coran took the time to scan Keith’s expression for permission to empathize. He used to spend his college days browsing student paintings.

“Hmm…that look in your eyes reminds me of a painting that I saw at the University Art Gallery." "There’s a mess of horrors depicted in the castle that’s taking center stage. Our poor prince is so bruised that one can quite literally see the bulge and veins of his heart as they’re on the verge of bursting right open and splattering in front of him! Lots of the macabre there.” He finally settled down and sipped his tea.

Keith swallowed the floral essence of his tea and set it down on his saucer.

“ _Diamond or Dust_. That’s what the artist called it posthumously.” 

“Wait a minute... _How_ can he name something _after_ his death?”

“It was meant for his lover who didn’t find the masterpiece until the funeral. During the reading of the will he left his estate with them and revealed the name of the painting in an envelope after everyone had left…legend says both are still laughing deep in the hills of Daiza.”

“Is this a _real_ ghost story or an anecdote, Coran?” Keith mindlessly chomped on a tea bag. Either way, what the _hell_ was the point?

Coran’s tone was speckled with sobriety, “No one can ever question a diamond’s worth because it’s earned its value, whether it stays in the limelight or unrefined. It’s worth comes from its transparency, it's dust from heat and pressure.”

After that, Coran cackled with zest, his ginger moustache bouncing. “And this is precisely why I no longer take my dates to art galleries! Most of them are gossips, one of them was a nurse at the University Medical Center."

Maybe it was the brewed petals crushed in their cups, but Keith wondered if Coran smoked some good leaves often.

“Coran, thank you.”

“I try my best. It’s my undeniable wit and ability to see the gizzards among the guts that got me this job as tour guide.”

“What about the theater?”

“Oh, that’s my moonlight job. I’ll be able to sleep from midnight to dawn, repeating and getting every other weekend off, of course.” After thanking Keith for their time together, he grabbed his golfer’s cap and spun it around his head. “Go see Allura next. This would be something that’s near and dear to her heart."

====

The elevator was a quiet addition to the busy hospital corridors, where several women in scrubs passed to and fro, their shoes scuffing as frantically as their energy. The kinetic push and pull was Keith's only companion.

After coming out, he stopped a nurse and asked where Dr. Allura Altea was. With a spin of her long blonde pigtails, she motioned for him to follow her swiftly.

“Can you slow down a little?”

“This is my default moving speed! I feel like I’m in slow motion when I take a stroll!” She spoke in a harried British accent.

Keith nearly tripped over his own foot following her down a sharp turn. Allura’s office was in between the other surrounding doctor’s offices and her door remained shut for now.

“Sorry. I’m not always permitted to knock on her door unless it’s urgent.” She straightened out her pink and blue scrubs while leaning against the wall with one foot elevated. “Yep, she’s with another patient at the moment.”

It was a pet peeve of Keith’s to rush and then stop for no reason. He sighed and took time to read her name tag: Romelle, written in a wacky font.

“Do you have an appointment with her that requires emergency care?”

“No. Mr. Komatsu sent me to discuss something important with her, and...”

“Wait! Are you Keith Kogane?”

“Yes I am.”

Once again, she skipped along until Keith followed her to the nurse’s station. She urged him to wait for a minute while she scavenged her own desk drawers for something, murmuring over being unable to find what she was looking for. “Wait!” her eyes flashed happily as her hand grabbed the sketchbook and gave it to Keith.

“How did you get your hands on this?”

“Allura left me a note to give this to you once you came in.”

He must have left it at her house the other day. Though Keith felt an old, familiar patch of himself sewn back together, he remembered the task at hand.

“Do you know if she will be much longer, or should I come back another day?”

“I want to say wait for another thirty minutes…”

He pulled out his phone and requested a sheet of paper for him to scribble a message down for her. It was his name and cell number with the words _at your earliest convenience regarding the Green Initiative_ underlined roughly.

“Thank you…” not wanting to butcher her name, he stopped. According to her, _Roh-mail_ was the phonetic pronunciation. He thanked the girl for her help and froze in his tracks when a wheel-chaired patient crossed his path. The man clearly had better days as evident by his scar-riddled, bandaged face. His dark eyes bore into Keith’s soul like a ghost possession threatening to happen before he was wheeled away.

“Thank you, Romelle.” He darted towards the elevator with his sketchbook close to his chest like a boy drawing comfort from a plush. The hospital corridors suddenly felt like white-washed walls of confinement and it made his chest thump harshly. The sickeningly enhanced scent of bleach flushed nausea to the pit of his stomach.

“Keith?”

Allura emerged from her office and looked at the man with concern simmering in her eyes. “I got your message, you’re not leaving so soon, are you?”

The room stopped spinning and the sterile scent dissipated the moment he saw her. He never liked hospitals much, especially since most of his visits have been anything but festive. Yet there was always something that was comforting about Allura’s presence, as if she were a healer from another dimension.

“Um, no. We can talk. Are you free right now?” The urge to ask her who the hell that man was fizzled on his tongue the moment he returned to business mode.

“Do come in.”

====

Allura’s office was much airier than Keith expected; as colorful and filled with plant life as her home hours away. The space was wide-open, accented with an even palette of blues, whites, golds, and pinks. Her desk was crafted from industrial steel and lightly ornamented with little stationary figurines, including a multicolored group of mice that kept company next to her gold name plaque. Numerous awards decorated the walls on either side of a large window.

Hell of an accomplishment for someone so young.

Before Keith could begin to review the measures, the woman said yes. Apparently, in between twelve-hour seven day a week shifts, she found time to do her homework and agree to the proposal.

“Last month, I brought up some of these same issues to Mayor Lubos, but he was clearly ambivalent about it." Allura folded her arms and took a sip of water, "His focus is more on tourism rather than his own people. What would his wife think?"

Mayor Ryner was the previous mayor of the town and one who's work in grassroots earned her love and respect from Olkari's residents. The Green Measure was her beloved idea that almost became reality with the help and funding of Mr. Komatsu and Allura's father. 

"I'm worried that signatures won't be enough. Money is what he wants."

"Which is why we're trying to get big spenders to agree to this. There's plenty of incentive." 

"And that incentive is generous, but people can be rather greedy in some circles...yet something tells me to have faith in it."

And if this measure pulled through, it would offset Galra’s comeback.” 'Corporate hemorrhaging', as Mr. Komatsu dubbed it.

“This warehouse is a lot bigger…” Keith crossed his arms and sat up straighter. “Mr. Komatsu believes that Galra's presence could be a threat to low-cost pharmaceuticals in this area…”

“If by bigger, you mean flashier and smarter on location. Profits will soar for them and there will be thousands of new jobs. It would be a noble short-term solution, but the long term…” Her face falters from tense to more relaxed as she takes another sip from her glass.

“You seem concerned.”

“Despite her door being sealed, Allura lowered her voice, “In the past I have denied the new CEO an offer that he thought I wouldn’t refuse.”

Lotor Daibazaal was in the news a lot more now that he decided to take his aging father’s place as CEO. This member of the Galra family would usher in a new age in which corruption did not factor in providing a fresh start. Or so the media speculated…

She continued by recapping a deal that Lotor presented her years after her father died. They were more serious as a couple then, and Lotor wanted to marry her during that time. Unfortunately, under a prenuptial agreement stating that all pharmaceuticals would be transferred by Galra. Weeks later, their primary warehouse in Balmera went under and feds were called. Lotor disappeared suddenly without notice. Allura took little time connecting the dots: she called off the engagement, packed her bags, and returned to London for months to clear her head.

“My feelings for that man nearly costed me my reputation. And what would my father say if he were here? Doing business with corruption? I’m only curious to know if Lotor does as we predict he will this time around.”

“I don’t know. When I was a factory worker at the one in Balmera Valley, they were taking twenty percent of each employee’s paychecks under an unspecified name. Turned out that it was all part of something to illegally cover their bottom line should the place go belly up.”

“Well, whoever was responsible for bringing them down the first time, they did a better job than I ever would. A shame they’re keeping their profile private; they deserve a reward or a medal of honor or something…”

Three hollow knocks to the door.

“Allura?”

Keith read the wrinkle on the doctor's nose and empathized; hopefully Romelle had something genuinely urgent to make up for interrupting their conversation.

“Do you remember that patient of yours that kept smashing his face into the window during his PTSD episode?” The nurse brought up reluctantly.

“Don’t tell me he’s done something else perilous.”

As Romelle rushed away, Allura excused herself and closed the door behind her. Keith could still make out hollow bits of conversation between the two women despite their quiet tones. Something about the patient growing more agitated with the “new treatment”, and inquiries of any estranged family.

_“Did you spell his name correctly, Romelle?”_

_“Just the way you wrote on the form: D-E-M-A-R-T-I-N…”_

Keith spelled the name under his tongue and gasped sharply. _De Martin…_ that name washed over Keith like the coldest shower of Deja-vu. 


	3. Symmetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I miss Keith.”
> 
> She just had to go and mentioned the K-word, didn’t she? Why now?
> 
> “What made you bring him up?”
> 
> She put a fry back in her cup and looked up, “He was a really cool guy, I like him. Think we can invite him over for Thanksgiving?”
> 
> Lance turned away with his lips pursed tightly on his straw as he sipped his shake. “He’s got family. And a place of his own. They’ll probably have plans.”
> 
> “I mean, you guys are still friends…”
> 
> “I just don’t feel like talking about him, okay?!” the words came out in a rapid trill of annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read this chapter with Lance in the past, prepare for something that is much more tightly written and faster pacing when it comes to the plot.  
> Seriously, I'm done revamping. Next time I update, I'm taking my sweet time before rushing into something. I've learned my lesson the hard way.

Autumn turned most leaves to warmer shades of cocoa, pumpkin, and burgundy. But the palm trees still maintained their stake in eternal summer.

“Lance, are you going to be ready in twenty minutes?”

It was a valid question, considering that he just stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel waist down. And he would have to make his thirty minutes count thanks to his parent’s flight being moved up to nine a.m _._ at Ryner International.

“Anna, can we _please_ crack open a window? It’s steamy in here!”

“Just turn on the fan.”

“What fan?!” he returned in a half-whiny voice.

He followed her point, where the cherrywood-glazed ceiling fan dangled from the ceiling in the center. Oh, _that_ fan. With the blades now spinning wildly, he started the blow dryer and used it to defog the mirrors before starting his own wet and wavy hair. His attention was on sudden worry lines that lightly creased his forehead and on lightly darkened under eyes from consistent lack of scholar-induced sleep. He hated it more than anything but hammered in his brain that these little blemishes on his beauty were temporary.

Overall, his skin looked more vibrant and pliant than it had in a long time. This was news in spite of all the stress he had been under lately.

Anna pinned her hair in a loose spiral of a bun while passing him a gaze that could liven up a cactus.

“What?” He asked, eyes stable and slightly speckled with curiosity. His eyes continued to follow her, unphased as she continued to rush away in her slip and strapless bra.

“What do you want me to pick out for you?” She called from the room as she started slipping on her cream-colored sweater dress.

“The stuff that’s already hanging on the mannequin, but please get one of my Harrington’s too.”  
  
The deep tan-colored blouson with wide pockets was perfect for snuggling his hands into during moments where dry skin was a guarantee without it. Waiting inside of the airport would be toasty, sure. But outside the winds had picked up and there was no way in hell he was just going to brave cold weather _and_ thorny whips for wind.

Anna sat at the edge of their bed to finish getting dressed. Instead of continuing her routine, the woman paused in the middle of fastening her wedges and nested her face into her hand.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he took a seat next to her and examined.

“Felt lightheaded…” she moaned before exhaling.

Lance figured that they were both neglecting themselves, as grad students did, you know. Running on all cylinders, probably eating book pages for dinner. His mama always reminded him that all work and less play made a person sick _como perrito_...

Her head fell against his shoulder and she puffed air like a content puppy. “Okay, let’s get a move on. Don’t want them over there all day.”

“Sure? Cuz I’ll call them and explain everything…”

“I’m positive. You can drive, though.” She squeezed his hand firmly with a soft tug.

====

To say that Lance regressed back to his college freshman days was an understatement. He nearly lifted his mother out of her heels as they exchanged happy reunion tears in Spanish. His father partially lifted him like a Christmas tree, nearly breaking his back.

“Hey, get a gander at _mi Leandro_ looking all spiffy and presidential. Your girl has been an helluva influence on you!”

“Yeah, she’s been a helluva teacher, ain’t that right, Anna?”

Anna winked as they looked back at her. The girl rushed to the woman who was equal in height and hugged her with an enthusiastic “mama” rolling off her tongue. And together they huddled into the cold of Fall and rushed themselves and their loads of luggage to the car. Apparently, the Spyder had much more room than Lance’s minimal prayer hoped it did.

When they arrived back to the Penthouse, Lance did everything he could to coddle his parents. Having them here in Olkari was setting a small orb aglow in his heart. He must have spent hours making his parent’s guest bedroom resort-like for them. One-thousand thread count sheets were perfectly placed and steamed with a heavy down comforter that could weight more than the mattress itself had it not been for countless feathers stuffed inside. And to further accent the room palette of gold and white: a glass vase of bountiful marigolds.

After both parents settled in with a fawning sigh, his papa stretched his long legs on the sofa and took control of the remote-control tablet to start experimenting with the TV, thanks to Lance showing him all one hundred functions. He demanded to know when the football game was coming on, with Olkari U vs. some “intimidating” school called Kerberos State. Neither Lance nor anyone he knew played on the team, but the older man claimed school spirit on behalf of his graduate student son. Olkari was _always_ losing over stupid ass plays, like fumbling the ball stupidly as a Kerberos Astronaut came charging at a teammate. Lance and his Papá screamed at the TV, and Lance received a few angry glares from both women for liberally tossing around F-bombs.

“Lance!”

“ _Leandro_!”

“Sorry!” Lance droned like a teenager being checked, his father snickering into his own hand while pointing at him tauntingly.

It really _was_ like old times, save for the rest of the McClain family being absent: The men and Anna sat on the couch while Mamá threw together something tasty for dinner. There was a spread of her famous garlic knots, five kinds of grilled meat, rice, and lasagna. Anna consumed a colorful veggie salad with vinaigrette, but the older woman made sure that she had fried bananas for dessert (with coconut oil in place of butter.)

“ _M’ija_ , I don’t remember you ever eating that much. Did I do better than last time?” the woman smiled.

Anna responded with a stuffed mouth and an enthusiastic hum for a response.

“You feed us better than they do on Fridays at the Grad student office.” Lance gushed, because no five-star chef ever won with close to home cooking. Hell, Hunk came damn close, but he would probably forgive him for comparing him to his own mother…speaking of which, he would have to drop by and surprise him one weekend.

Lance’s father nudged his wife. “You know what, baby? You and Anna are gonna have to get together this Thanksgiving and have your garlic knots with her vegetable yakisoba.”

The young woman tried to stifle a burp, but Lance’s mother gave her a look painted with compassion as she released it took a sip of seltzer.

“ _Sumimasen._ ” Anna whispered roughly as she whipped from her seat and to the patio door.

“Huh?”

“She was excusing herself.” Lance educated his father. He sure hoped that she wasn’t feeling anything similar to this morning.

Meanwhile, his mother was smiling with her chin rested under her chin, tilting her head gingerly. “Her face seems _‘poquito más redonda_ …could just be me.”

Lance believed now that _maybe_ she was a little bit more swollen in places that he felt way less comfortable discussing with his own mother. Definitely her boobs.

====

Lance spent Sunday morning with his father by his side, while his mother stayed with an unusually exhausted Anna, who was pushing through mild nausea while catching up on school work. There were no arguments as both women insisted father and son check out the first wedding venue together.

“Seems like they were itching to get rid of us. Think they’re gonna catch up on their daytime stories?” Papá stopped and straightened his sweater sleeves coolly. “Knowing your Mamá, she just might convince that girl to take a two-hour break.”

“I actually admire Anna’s concentration. One little speck of dust flying in the sunlight, and I’m literally distracted for ten minutes or so!”

“I would love to see how _los chiquitos_ come out. With you being such a talented boy, they could run circles around other kids their age by preschool.”

“Can hardly wait.” His irises became clouded with a chance of daydreams.

As far as choosing the venue, he sent his fiancée videos and 3d panorama shots like he promised.

There were wide circular rows of concrete lining the grass area, giving way to a large tiled area overlooking the ocean and mountains. Several species of flowers took residence in different plots.

Though romantic, Lance thought this place way too “Butchart Gardens” for the two of them. They trekked the garden for an hour before Lance decided to take a seat. He nodded while the manager, who was a petite woman dressed like church in her fleece jacket and furry hat, chitter-chattered merrily to him and filled him in on payment plans, dates, weather, etc.

With a warm smile, Lance excused himself to see what Anna thought of the place.

_“Talk to me.”_

“Whatcha think?” he asked with a lukewarm tone in his voice.

 _“You don’t seem enthusiastic enough…what’s on your mind?”_ He swore that his mother was the one holding the phone and miming her soft voice through Anna.

“It’s too big, like _way_ too big. I wanted something more intimate for us.”

_“Then let’s just go to the next item on the list. I trust you.”_

“For real? Just like that?”

_“Last thing we need is to be dealing with logistics when we can simply go with our guts.”_

And it was at this moment that Lance’s body quaked with a ghastly sting of a chill in his spine. He swore to God and whatever was holy ground that she did NOT just sound like _him!_ Fuck that! Not that leather jacket-loving, head-on charging man with a mullet that…

“Mr. McClain, the venue is yours.” The lady intervened as he found his attention back to the present situation at hand. “If you’re willing to give us the down payment, we can go ahead and schedule for your November 23st nuptials.”

“Thank you, but I’ve decided to go elsewhere. Papí, you ready?”

“So soon? I thought we would be food and wine tasting or something.” The man walked ahead with his shoulders slightly slumped.

He thanked the now-tranquilized manager for her time and began discussing the next venue on the list with his fiancée.

====

For a moment the only sound vibrating between Lance and his father was the turn signal. It was a right going past Ariel Avenue:

“How did you and mamí know it was right to marry each other?”

“Cold feet?”

“No… just thoughts…”

Lance’s father explained to the boy that when two people were meant for each other that all the bickering and silence in the world would not tear them apart. “Of course, having a little bit of whip appeal never hurts.” The man seductively raised his brows. “You have to make sure that your physical game is top notch, which we Ruiz men already have mastered, judging by how smitten she gets just holding your hand…”

Lance swallowed and decided to retune his attention to his father. It could have become a much longer drive had it not been for that one little tidbit at the end.

“You think she’s still smitten?”

“Women like that don’t let down their guard down easily, and I’ve seen how _tight_ she can be. Reminds me of this one girl I dated who was captain of the debate team. She felt like such a bad girl around me, kinda refreshing for my ego.”

Lance hummed soberly. The relational ebb and flow had transformed between them, bringing forth a physical separation supplanted with growing academic responsibilities. Not so much longer with earth-shattering, touch-me-and-you’ll-spark kind of energy. The rigors of school could kill any relationship passion, but still…

“We’re also not afraid of arguing with each other because we grow stronger until we do the next pain-in-the-ass thing. It repeats until we’re married for twenty-five years and still looking forward to all the craziness that makes us grow in love.”

“Anna and I almost never argue…”

Were they adept at communicating or not at all?"

_Tokyo, two years earlier..._

It was early October. At the time: two months, seven days, and fifteen hours as boyfriend and girlfriend. Anna wanted to take him on a train to somewhere special, but what Lance pictured in most Hayao Miyazaki films was nothing compared to the surprise she brought him to: She took her hands away from his eyes and presented the most beautiful rolling hills.

Most of what he remembered about the southern Japanese countryside was a blur of mildly tepid weather and an entire crowd of people taking advantage of apple blossom orchards countryside. There were so many of them that the sun and humidity beating down on the general area produced an intoxicating aroma in the air, mildly mingling with the scent of sweat glands. They walked around for the next two hours until Lance had to turn his cap’s bill to the front and keep trudging on. The girl, meanwhile, never seemed to break a sweat. It was as though the sun’s beams were convenient curtains shielding her from the perils of sticky clothing and scratchy skin.

After Lance reluctantly complained that he was starting to get really uncomfortable, she simply said “okay” and led him by the hand. They walked just a little longer until they found a vending machine that dispensed soda. Lance decided to forgo asking Anna about the different flavors, opting for something that had a juicy peach on the packaging. It was a skinny, uniquely shaped bottle of soda sealed with a marble.

 _“That peach hit the spot.”_ He chugged lightly until he spilled the stuff on his tank top with a stifled curse. _“That was sexy…”_

All she did was offer a napkin from her dress pocket, massaging the blush of her cheeks before standing up and dabbing the hue staining his shirt.

 _“Umm…you’re not about to get heatstroke, are you?_ ‘Cuz you’re awfully quiet and…”

_“I’m used to it.”_

She linked her lips with his and sighed deeply into it. The sensation made his spine tingle and his composure simmer with cracks. The flavor infusion of banana and peach was kinda…

Lance whispered tenderly in her ear for them to get out of here right now. His brain could only _imagine_ what she looked like underneath the outline of that thin jumper dress of hers, his heart brought the gift of chemical whimsy over how much of a fucking aphrodisiac the scent of apple medley in the air was. Finally, his more primitive organ yearned to take her to a wooded area and do things so romantic and sinful that he had to _get a hold of himself_ _!_

 _“Come here.”_ she enthralled him sweetly _._

And by “here”, she meant on the side of the train station booth where they made out and wandered their hands over each other’s torsos and raked each other’s hair. The wail of the next train broke their enthrallment and they would sneak in deep stares into each other’s eyes periodically once they were settled into their seats on the train ten minutes later, no thanks to the conservative rules that were plastered all over the walls and above holding compartments forbidding PDA.

They were home ions later. It was a temporary apartment that he shared with Shiro and Adam during the time Adam was on academic assignment. Before they could continue, he released her hand with a kiss and had her wait outside for just three minutes while he stumbled over his feet inspecting anything out of place and dirty. It was a good thing that his room still looked somewhat like a destination brochure and that the space was fresh because he was now hotter and steamier than the apple-infused air at the Orchard.

A gentle heart-to-heart was needed as he finally opened the door:

 _“Umm…”_ he folded an arm across his chest and rubbed it with his eyes bored shyly into hers. _“What we felt back there…was amazing. But if you’re feeling shy about this, or just wanna relax, then…_

She listened intently until seizing him lightly by the collar of his sun-patterned button-down and rubbed the material between her fingers.

 _“Can we please just get to it?”_ She whispered and kissed the spot just beside his ear.

Everything he wore felt like hundred-degree heat pockets as he allowed her to kiss him again, this time much more fervently than before. He took the gesture and the fullness of her pupils as a green light to go all the way.

They paused long enough for her to take off her shoes and for them both to stumble backwards with a brief titter.

_====_

Time appeared to resume as Lance came to, peculiarly adrift with satiation. Their moment following the trip to this room of his had been a wash of erotic intensity taking place until the space was aglow in amber. The temperature from the air conditioning vents unraveled any longstanding humidity surrounding them.

During that timeless frame Lance remembered listening, communicating, and taking his sweet time despite the overwhelming swarm of nerves pirouetting in his own stomach.

His ears attuned to a shaky sob crumbling from Anna as she trembled.

When he went to wrap his arms around her, he flinched as she jerked away with the bedsheet against her bra-clad body. It was his fear come true at the ripe old age of twenty-two. Was she having regrets already after coming down from such a high? Did he hurt her? Did someone else hurt her in the past?

 _“…Baby, what do you want me to do? I-I could leave? Or stay?”_ he whispered with a surrendering sigh, running his hands through his mussed-up hair.

He pulled on a pair of stray joggers and went to the kitchen, coming back with two water bottles and an unopened package of apple gummies on a serving tray as he returned to his side of the bed. He gently opened the package and started chewing casually. She turned her head as a final sniff escaped.

 _“Whatcha’ got?”_ she asked casually and wiped her damp eyes with a corner of the bedsheet that she was gripping.

 _“Post-coital munchies?”_ he tried with a dopey grin. _“And a little something to wet that preeeetty loud whistle of yours.”_

As a reward she started snickering like an engine revving and nuzzled against his shoulder, grunting in exasperation. _“Didn’t know what the big deal about sex was until today.”_

Lance giggled and kissed her temple, _“With the right person, it’s supposed to be out of this world no matter how nervous or unprepared or frickin clumsy the other person is.”_ Lance concluded with a self-conscious eyeroll.

 _“You were wonderful.”_ She laced her hands into his and bit into a gummy,

_“Were you talking to me, or that piece of candy you just bit into?”_

_“You!”_ With a smirk she briefly ruffled her hand in the back of his head and continued chewing.

_Present day..._

Lance was happy that he got the location as word of mouth from Coran; something that would be wonderful for a smaller wedding. Older people in Olkari lived here after the thrills of their youth were over and they just wanted to live here in peace. Two bright white walls on each side had four windows on both stories. Straight ahead was the humble, yet happy enclave where an old chapel existed behind two large double doors.

It may have looked like something that only existed in the confines of a more romanticized history of this island, but to Lance, it may very well have been the most enchanting place for an intimate wedding. He immediately imagined exchanging rings with Anna in the mild dimness of the space, their world outside saturated in sunlight. Or moonlight.

“I feel things here…” His old man’s gaze swam to and fro like an explorer discovering ancient ruins. “Can I say that a church feels sexy?”

“So, Anna.” Lance turned back to his Facetime, snickering lightly at his father’s comment. “Imagine lighting some candles over there in the corner tables, then you’ll have our officiant over here…”

With a surge of energy, the boy pranced from one side of the room to another.

To Lance’s father, he probably looked like a man possessed by fairies. He was probably disappointed that the wedding was not going to be in a larger venue. Since the engagement, he would dish out small hints here and there about wanting to be witness to glitz and glam of wealthy living. But neither he nor his future daughter-in-law were ones to show off an abundance of wealth. Lance thought he was going to have to regift his Spyder to the man at one point. He pretended not to acknowledge large, bony fingerprints smearing the metallic finish in direct sunlight.

“Good morning, welcome.” A medium-sized man wearing black slacks with a black sweater took an even pace towards the two men. What grabbed Lance’s attention was the crocheted scarf around his neck made of a complex mosaic of neutral tones. A white bowler’s hat finished the look, giving him an authentic Godfather aesthetic.

“My fiancée and I have decided to get married here. No question about it.”

“We’re booked until November 15th on all hours of the day.”

“What about the twenty third?”

“Just give me a minute, and I’ll come back with the details.” The man apologized in his thick accent for not having his information on hand.

“This makes a beautiful ceremony place, just make sure everyone else knows the latitude and longitude.” Lance’s father joked partially.

“They won’t have to be in a helicopter to find it.”

The Godfather returned with an old-fashioned leather notebook that was so filled with handwriting the pages begin to wither to a rusty champagne hue.

“And I take it you’re his older brother?”

“Looking good for _papí_ , huh?” His father wagged his eyebrows, clearly proud of the distance his family gene pool has traveled.

“ _Sí, Papí._ ” Lance drawled while spotting an opening for four o’clock sharp and immediately having the man pencil it in for him. Mission accomplished.

====

“ _You suck!”_ Adam sighed, bleary-eyed and glasses-less on Lance’s phone screen.

Lance rolled his eyes nonchalantly. What did Adam expect? That Lance was just going to wake him up from Shiro’s Brawny mascot arms on an overcast Sunday and tell him to come on down? He already had much of the wedding checklist left to go, _plenty_ for Adam to tag along and help with. Whose wedding was it, again?

“Look, Anna got sick and my parents came into town yesterday morning, and _by the way, say hi to Papí_.”

Adam gave a guttural greeting to the older man as he waved to him with two fingers up in the air.

“I’m sorry we chose a venue without you, okay? Just feel giddy knowing that we’re _far from finished_.”

_“You do understand that November 23 rd is five weeks away, right? Versus eight **months** that Takashi and I had to plan?”_

“Oh, sure. It’s a good thing that it’s gonna be a small wedding with good food, friends, venue, atmosphere. But still a real fancy shindig.”

 _“In other words, stuff that should be half-done by next month. Why not just postpone until Christmas break?”_ Adam said with a yawn.

“Because!” the erratic rhythm in Lance’s chest began to throb and thrash. He exhaled with a ripple, “Because I just want her to be my wife and and for us to get to our newlywed phase already. She’s deserves it.”

Shiro stirred with a moan, and his chin wandered to Adam’s shoulder as he whispered. _“Baby, who are you talking to?”_ Adam answered his husband, who made a face with a comment that let Lance know he heard him loud and clear.

“Sorry, Shiro. _Adam_ didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Adam scowled, _“You know good and damn well Jupiter can hear the sound of your voice, Lance!”_

Shiro smiled and said “hi” to Lance’s father.

_“Alright. You’re forgiven this time. But don’t forget and invite someone else by accident.”_

“Now why would I do that, Adam?” Lance’s eyes were lidded as his lips relaxed, “You do realize that if you and Shiro didn’t take me to Japan with you guys two years ago that none of this would be a production, you know that, right?”

_“I know, kid. Just yanking your chain.”_

“Well, stop doing that!” He stuck his tongue out.

“ _Love you.”_

Lance muttered his own petty version of “love you, too” and ended the call.

====

After promising never again to surf during overcast, Lance found himself fitted in his wet suit on that same afternoon ready to conquer the winds. If he ever had an accident again like he suffered last month, he would simply lie and tell Allura that he slipped in a bathtub or something while using Dead Sea mineral infused body wash…

But to his surprise the glowing orb goddess showed up in the sky again to light his path, lucky him.

A whole month later he had yet to see Keith hiding out on his favorite bench, sketching or at least getting lost in whatever seeds he hatched for the day. That spot remained empty, even in the middle of daylight.

Lance more than anticipated that Mr. Right-hand-man-to-Komatsu would play the role of Casper the Bitchy Ghost where he was concerned. It was funny how someone could return to your world out of nowhere, then suddenly disappear like a fizzle of a sparkler. Of all the people in his immediate universe, he had never wanted to gnash his teeth over someone so much…

Lance was tired of being petty.

A familiar face decided to collect shells that morning. The old fashioned-striped bathing suit was such a dead giveaway, but Coran made the aesthetic work for him.

He strolled over with his surfboard in his possession, following the older man’s hovering gaze. “Whatcha looking for?”

“There’s a prehistoric shell around this beach somewhere, one that has yet to be found even by my friends offshore. Thought I become a weekend warrior and make finding it my one mission.

“Good luck.” Lance picked a shell up for the hell of it and tucked it in his palm.

Coran emitted wisdom on a daily basis, but there was a gentle, precious side of him that reminded Lance of an eternally curious child.

“Maybe I can help.” He uttered sincerely.

After Coran gave him a bag, they spent a timeless moment gathering shells and precious stones. Actually, just sun-soaked rocks that washed up from the depths of the ocean. At one point they made it a weird race to see who could find the most intricately-designed shell, with Coran finding one etched with multi-colored waves and zig-zags. Lance wasn’t sure what species of mollusk that came from. He also had no way of knowing there would be a hermit crab napping in a sugar-hued shell, causing him to shriek loudly and throw the poor fella in the thick waves. Coran dropped his bag and his mouth at the gesture.

====

“Saw Keith the other day. He’s had quite a busy life lately with Ren.”

“Good for him.” Lance masked his voice under a veil of boiling ambivalence.

“You sound rather hostile.”

“Keith will do whatever he wants. That’s how it’s always been.”

Every vein burned in Lance with regret and anger at himself for being so fucking desperate to win him over. How pathetic in the end. Maybe fate split them apart so he could focus again on the blessings that he had now and not what slipped away…

“I almost wished I didn’t bring my parents out here…” A faint sensation of dread burrowed in the coating of his heart.

“What’s on your mind?” Coran turned to him sadly.

He was afraid of telling his fiancée that his feelings had reduced from a boil to a tepid simmer. For a while he chalked it up to the honeymoon phase finally being over. There was also the issue that previously buried feelings for his best friend were still steaming in his core no matter how he fervently worked to block them out of the present. Even if he and Keith were still friends, what would he have to say? They had not kept in touch since.

“Let’s just say that while I’m living one dream, there’s another one that I’m wrestling around with and that’s turned into a nightmare. I haven’t told my parents about it because I don’t want to come off as wishy-washy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with loving two people. But which one did you _choose?_ Can’t let there be regrets for having the heart and mind to do that. Hell, at your age I would have probably been stringing the two people along like cans on the back of a wedding Convertible.”

“But she’s done so much for me…my folks love her!” The nightmare had the potential to become a beautiful dream. And the dreamscape with Keith in it seemed to quickly be growing into old, withered brambles. “Maybe it _is_ cold feet! I don’t know!”

“Families won’t always agree with our decisions. And that’s where their adult children must be left to grow…”

Lance sighed.

“You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, my boy. Just gotta remember that heart intelligence. No one’s gonna make up their mind for you unless you give them power to.” With a friendly pat to his shoulder, Coran grinned and shuffled off to mingle with the waves and gossip with the land dwellers

_Six years ago: Kerberos State University_

Freshman year couldn’t have come fast enough. Lance said goodbye to high school with a thick bittersweet that came with no longer being in the top ten percent of his class, or from being separated two thousand miles from family and friends. His parents were in Varadero for a family emergency and couldn’t be there to boohoo over the baby of the family leaving their nest, so he face-timed them again for the umpteenth time.

But this new school was three times larger than the grassy knoll and single-story place that he attended for all four years. It took him three flights of stairs to finally find his dorm, and the elevator was out of service that day. Whatever, he still had his legs and he was going to use them well.

The room was still empty with not a piece of roommate memorabilia to be found. There was a bunkbed horizontally arched against the window with a central air conditioner at the foot of the bed.

After spending twenty minutes with his parents and family, Lance disconnected and chose to get some rest.

“Snooze, you lose.” He tossed his large wheeled duffle in the middle of the floor and catapulted to the top of the bunk, crossing his feet and folding his arms behind his head.

Not expecting to fall asleep, his ear canal tunes into a whispering, deep-pitched voice questioning, “How can he fall asleep with no bed sheets?”

A closet door opened gingerly, “Looks like he’s able to do it just fine.”

Lance squinted his eyes open. A taller, larger guy bore into him with a stare that oozed curiosity.

“ _Hi! The name’s Lance!”_

 _“Hi, Lance, the name’s Shiro…”_ his eyes creased as he bit back a smile at the blundering fool waking from his catnap. “And before you ask, I’m not going to be rooming with you because I’m not a student here. Keith, on the other hand…”

Well unless this room was haunted, he knew the other guy was around here somewhere. Suddenly, out of the closet came a boy of average height wearing black jeans, a red leather jacket with a hood and a black t-shirt underneath. His neck-length black hair was a controlled chaotic mess of a mullet and of fringes covering traces of thick brows. One look in those midnight ocean eyes, and Lance’s breathing shallowed with the sweetest vapor as he absorbed the entire living breathing portrait of him.

The beautiful boy gasped loudly as he crashed to the floor and landed lopsided over Lance’s duffle bag.

Shiro immediately ran to his aid.

 _“Holy shit!”_ Lance swung his legs around to dart to his roommate’s rescue, forgetting that he was Shiro’s height above floor level and landed not too far away from him with a painfully resounding slam and a grunt.

 _“Are you okay?”_ Keith was now on his knees hovering as Lance waited for the throbbing in his palms and hips to subside.

 _“I think so?”_ Lance’s voice wavered with a groan, yet he recovered with a joke, “Looks like fate wants us to fall for each other.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him.

_“Listen, umm, sorry about that. Used to having my own room back at home, and just dropping my stuff wherever…”_

_“Then it’s a good thing I’m not gonna sue.”_ The other boy said dryly with a crooked smile.

Lance introduced himself again just in case.

_“Keith.”_

The boys hooked hands firmly and helped each other up. They fell into a comfortable, pregnant pause with their gazes tightly bound to each other in silent intrigue. Suddenly the shrill sound of a laughing, breathless Shiro got their attention as he paced to and fro in the hallway.

_Present Day_

After surfing for an hour or so after Coran went to his business, it was back to the grindstone that was his weekend academic catch-up.

While in his car, he had his notebook and textbook waiting for him in the passenger seat with his open laptop heating his thighs. Starting his research paper normally took an hour per page to get done. Which meant that he might as well get paid for an honest day’s work. Not even rough drafts were doing his beginning stages of writing justice. As quickly as words would materialize on the screen was how quickly they would poof.

“C’mon, Lance. You got this. You can word well…” he scratched his head with his pencil before opening his window to give the wind a chance to wake him up.

_The First Five Years in Two-Parent Households: Why Are They Crucial?_

He wouldn’t be changing his title, at the very least.

His phone jumped towards him, begging to be answered. There was no way in hell he was getting distracted right now. He straightened his reading glasses and opened the book with font that even an ant would strain eyes reading.

Two hours and two strains of pages later, he saw a missed call from Pidge, requesting his presence at the Coriander Suites next week.

 ** _Lance:_** _Studying right now. Give me the deets._

 **_Pidge:_ ** _Hunk and I are having a small housewarming for Keith. He just wants to hang out with a few friends, lowkey._

 ** _Pidge:_** _If you actually talked to Keith, you would know he moved a few doors down from us._

What the fuck?

 ** _Lance:_** _Seriously better not be yanking my chain._

 ** _Pidge:_** _moved in last month. Call him yourself if you don’t believe me._

Sayonara, concentration.

====

Nothing got Lance’s mind off of things like going to a nightclub and dancing despite the chill on the beach. Date nights had their thrill when Lance took Anna out every now and then. The Cocoa Kitty: an open-area dance club that existed since the 1920s and was a popular hang-out for wealthier clientele. Ballroom dancing competitions took place here during Christmas seasons. Lots of celebrities and musicians would have their first big shows here back in the days of black and white television. Those that came for a visit usually left laughing and chatty after the Golden-era landmark welcomed visitors in its embrace.

Anna gushed, “The first time we drove by this place and he’s all, like, “Babe, I really want to see what’s inside, and I said _why?_ And he goes: to show you my moves. Then I’m all like _what moves?”_

“She had two left feet. Her words, not mine. But I showed her a thing or two…” Lance drawled with a cocky grin, remembering that was something about him that could never get rusty.

The older man sat up in surprise, “You didn’t know he could dance? Didn’t he give you some indication while making love?”

Lance clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw clicked a little. “ _Papí!”_ One look at Anna’s flushed face and Lance yearned for her to vanish into thin air through the power of his own red-hot mortification.

Mamá gave her husband a fierce slap on his shoulder, causing him to jolt a little. She mumbled something in Spanish about him opening his goofy, inappropriate mouth in front of a young lady like that. “Ignore him, kids. You know how the man’s sense of humor can be…”

“I’m sorry, Anna. I consider you family, and this is how I joke around my loved ones. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” His arms were folded like a large child straightened out for his bad behavior with a yard stick.

“Thank you.”

When they got out of the car, Lance looked over to his fiancée and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, you good?”

“I’m a big girl, Lance. Besides, I see where _you_ get your naughtiness from.” She smirked.

Lance huffed a mild titter, “Touché. Let’s go have a good time."

====

Jovial trumpets blared through the amber-lit ambience of the club with a raspy crooning male dressed in a black suit with a golden bowtie. Couples of all ages, stages, and styles swayed together to the swing of accompanying drums and symbols vibing through the space.

It was almost like a jump back in time for Lance to see his parents dancing around vigorously like they did when he was a little boy mimicking merengue and shit. It gave him the chills and nearly made him starstruck with tears.

Most of the music was swing and bossa, with a little Latin influence sprinkled in, but anyone who knew how to move their hips were welcome to sway and move.

“Feel good enough to show out?” Lance coaxed.

“Oh, what the hell. That’s what we came here for.” Anna draped out her hand and joined him with a smile. She pushed her ginger ale next to his glass of flavored wine cooler. He led while she followed him with much more skill than ever. But for some reason he found himself stumbling over the top of her heel and tried to play it off with a laugh.

====

“Why are we abandoning your parents?” Anna tittered.

Lance waved off her worry with his hand, “They’re fine! They were probably counting down to the last second for us kids to leave.” He motioned for her to surrender her three-inch strappy wedges before continuing. He was not a gentleman letting her Bambi-limp in the lawn.

They ordered three cups of seasoned-salted fries and two ice-cream shakes from a nearby fast-food joint before returning to their car with the drop-top down.

“I miss Keith.”

She just _had_ to go and mentioned the K-word, didn’t she? Why now?

“What made you bring him up?”

She put a fry back in her cup and looked up, “He was a really cool guy, I like him. Think we can invite him over for Thanksgiving?”

Lance turned away with his lips pursed tightly on his straw as he sipped his shake. “He’s got family. And a place of his own. They’ll probably have plans.”

“I mean, you guys are still friends…”

“I just don’t feel like talking about him, okay?!” the words came out in a rapid trill of annoyance.

“Fine. We won’t.”

She set her cup of fries in the cup holder, hands laced tensely on her lap.

Lance rubbed his temple and uttered an apology to the girl, “It’s not you. We got in an ugly fight over some sh- _stuff_ and are kinda not speaking to each other. It’s been...can we just talk about something else?”

After waiting around in a damp vapor of silence, they continued to act more normal.

“I should’ve ordered three of these.” Anna tipped her cup.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” He said with his gaze on the sparkling urban landscape of cars and festive pedestrian chatters.

“Maybe I’ll go back and indulge in a bacon cheeseburger or two”.

Listening to this little woman talk nonsense was enough for him to turn around and look in her eyes, “Anna Komatsu turning into a meat-eater all of a sudden?! What’s gotten into you?”

She joked about throwing the shit up the next morning and all that yadda-yadda, which was pissing him off a little, “Don’t start subjecting yourself to bulimia, girl! You’re better than that!”

“I’m not bulimic! I’m having a baby _!”_ she chopped her palm for emphasis before lowering her head with a sudden spaciness in her eyes and mouth frozen ajar.

“Whew! I was gonna _say_ -wait, WHAT!” His tight frown flashed into a mess of shock as his mouth flung open. Something wonderfully warm and spicy percolates his heart energy, fluttering with the velocity of a thousand lightning streaks, “We’re gonna be parents?!”

He flung the door open and leapt into the chill of the ocean air, immune to the cold rattle. He ran around to the front of the car and went to the passenger side to open her door. In a fit of laughter, he swept the woman in his arms and twirled her around. He set her down gently after noticing her eyes dulling to a more faded mauve glaze.

“I’m fine. Might be the milkshake I shouldn’t have had.” She grinned with a lukewarm tilt to her lips.

“We have to tell mamá y papa, they’re gonna have a fit over this!” His jovial smile fades with a more scrutinizing grimace, “Wait, did you go with mama yesterday morning?”

“I took a test by myself, then we went to Allura to get a sure thing. And sure enough…”

“Well as far as this wedding date goes: it’s signed, sealed, and delivered!”

He chalks up her lack of enthusiasm to sudden nausea and hugs her with a spread of warmth. Something about it makes him weak in the knees, yet acutely sick in his throat. In the two years they have been together, having her in his arms had never felt denser.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, you guys, and happy tail end of 2019


End file.
